Nineteen I am, that short gap after teenage spots and before the wrinkles start to grow across your face. Well apart from these two crinkles on my forehead. They came from this period in my life, it was a year ago now, or maybe it’s still happening. Let’s not go into it.
These two crinkles on my forehead are next to a very faint scar. I got it from you know what. Self harm. And then I have a freckle that’s from the sun I think or maybe I’ve had it from conception. “These things happen you know.” People say to me, and I wish with every bone in my body that it didn’t or even doesn’t but that will never change everything because my head is a rotten egg.
Pigsty that’s what its like, look at this crap all across this place. Excitement-less. Well that’s what those two lines have left in my head. It was like bang bang bang in my head. The police rang and said they were going to pick me up at three thirty. That’s what I heard from the voice in my head. That I am a bad person needed dead. But what’s in my head is very separate from reality. Bang bang.
Get out was what I wanted to say to that voice. And how do I know when its got out, when the creases in and on my head have recovered, that’s what I want to know. Because. Because now things are pretty good. Well not pretty they are straight good. Simple sorts of things really. Interrailing across Europe with my boyfriend in like, three weeks. And then moving into my new house. Apparently it looks like the houses out of Coronation street but I’ve never seen that programme. But then when I am alone I wonder if all this stuff is like…superficial. If when it is all scraped away there is still that voice in my head and its just the chemicals in the pills that I pop each day masking what’s still in my head. So how do I know when the crinkle has unwrinkled itself?
This is a text version of my actual speech patterns. That’s why there are such weird combinations of words. Hope you still get my drift.